


A way to say goodbye

by FeralCreed



Category: The Losers (2010)
Genre: Carlos hangs out with his family, Gen, It Ends Poorly, Missing Scene, Post-Canon, kind of, sorry for the feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-25 14:22:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22137523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeralCreed/pseuds/FeralCreed
Summary: So Pooch and Jensen were with their families onscreen at the end of the movie, which led me to think about how Cougar's family reunion might have gone, which made me think about how sad it would be if it went badly. That, of course, meant a fic happened.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	A way to say goodbye

Cougar is incredibly nervous as he drives out to his familial home. He knows that there's no real reason for it. The Losers have had their names cleared, they're no longer legally dead, and his mother had invited him to this gathering herself. Pooch's and Jensen's own reunions went rather flawlessly. All of that had made it easy to agree to meet his family. But now that he was actually going to see them, well, all of his fears were coming back to him. There were a million things that could go wrong and a million reasons they could still hate him. 

What those were, exactly, he couldn't say... but it was quite literally the thought that counted. 

The California desert doesn't offer much of a reprieve. It's flat, speckled with cacti and rocks and scrub brush, the wide expanse of sand marred only by dips and cracks where water from the storms have carved their mark. He wonders sometimes about what hides beneath it. Are there dinosaur skeletons? Forgotten towns? Its secrets are ones that he doubts will ever be revealed. Not many people care very much for the desert. Crops and animals will not thrive there and houses will eventually be covered by the shifting sands. 

He still finds it beautiful, and it gives him something to think about as the worn tires of his truck beat along the highway. Surely all his fear will end up being for nothing. His mother is the furthest thing from a cruel person. He wouldn't be invited unless she thought that he'd be accepted. The Alvarezes have their drama, just like any other family in the world, and not all of them had been happy about his decision to enlist, but they still support each other. Including him. He hopes. 

The front yard is full of vehicles and he ends up parking closer to the road. At least it will be easier to leave early, if he has to, though he hates the thought of things going that badly. His truck gets a few curious looks. He hasn't been here in a while and last time he brought a rental vehicle. But once he steps out, it doesn't take long for them to recognize him. 

A few of the younger kids swarm him, curious hands grabbing at his jeans and vest, and one particularly ambitious child trying to reach for his hat, though it's far out of her reach. He gently nudges her aside and approaches the house itself, his trepidation returning. But the people gathered on the porch greet him with a happiness that can't be faked, and it eases a little as they invite him inside and one hands him a drink. It's not long before he's being caught up on all the little ins and outs of the family. 

“Let the boy rest,” he hears someone say with a laugh. Nobody's called him a boy in a very long time and he glances over with an amused look to see who it is. 

“Mother.” There's a smile on his face before he realizes it, and he closes the distance between them to hug her. He's missed her dearly, and he thinks that she might have felt the same way. She takes his hand and leads him over to a table in the kitchen where half a dozen people are already seated. The constant stream of chattering should be close to overwhelming but he finds it a little comforting. Eventually his mother excuses herself to go do something else and he slowly tunes out the conversation around him except for the couple closest to him. 

He blinks when a little girl runs up to him and holds out her toy. It's some kind of doll, with a backwards dress half on. Is she... giving it to him? Why? 

“I'm Laura. This is Isabella. Mama said you could fix her clothes, I guess because you're smart, and an adult, and old enough to get dressed yourself.” The girl looks down at the doll and huffs a noise under her breath as if she's also perfectly capable of getting dressed on her own. From the looks of the doll, Cougar isn't sure. But when she holds it up to him again, bouncing impatiently on the balls of her feet, he gives in and crouches down in front of her to help set things straight. 

One of the boys runs past him to the table. He jumps up to kneel on a chair and starts tugging at the sleeve of one of the women. His mother, Cougar assumes. The boy is evidently a spokesman for the younger members of the Alvarez clan, as a dozen other children are clustered behind him as he excitedly begins laying out a plan. Evidently they want to be allowed to walk half a mile down the road to a small corner store so they can get candy. Though he can't blame them for wanting something to do, their parents don't seem inclined to either let them go alone or to play babysitter. They were likely looking forward to having a few hours off from their parental duties. 

“I'll take them,” he volunteers after a moment. There's an assortment of delighted noises from the children and thankful ones from the adults. Going to the corner store will hopefully let the kids burn off some energy... at least enough that their incoming sugar high won't hit them as badly as it could. 

Mateo snorts under his breath, squinting at Cougar. The brown bottle clutched in his hand has done nothing to moderate the sour disposition that Cougar remembers him always having. He idly wonders how his uncle hasn't been forbidden from family gatherings by now. There can't be anyone that he's endeared himself to considering his attitude and sharp tongue. Maybe it would cause more drama to kick him out than to let him keep on making a fool of himself. The others might see him as nothing more than free entertainment. 

“Couldn't pick a worse babysitter,” Mateo slurs. Cougar ignores him so he can finish helping Laura with her doll. Some lunatic decided to make the back of the dress button up with about a dozen tiny brass buttons and he can see why Laura was having trouble with them. Besides, he's heard about military men not having feelings and all kinds of other bullshit before. This man can have nothing new to say to him. 

Evidently Cougar's non-reaction isn't what Mateo was looking for, because he speaks again, louder this time. “Killed all those kids in Bolivia, didn't he?” 

Everyone in the kitchen falls quiet and suddenly Cougar can't breathe. He shoves the doll back at Laura and gets to his feet. The room is too small, too crowded, too much, and he blindly stumbles into the living room, toward where he remembers the front door being. He can't be in here any more. He has to get out. Escape. Shame and anger burn hotly in his stomach at what Mateo said. Half of him wants to fight him, hit him as hard as he can, but the louder half just wants to get away. 

It takes only a few moments to reach the porch. He grips the railing in both hands, grateful for the pain lancing up from a splinter stabbing his left palm. It gives him something else to think about besides Mateo's awful, awful words. It's a dangerous path, seeking out pain, but he's too close to losing himself in panic to care. He tries to think of the breathing exercises he was taught but his mind comes up blank. He knows better but at the moment he can't bring himself to care. Just remembering how to breathe takes everything he's got. 

“Carlito?” a hesitant voice asks. 

He gives a violent, full body flinch and whirls around, his now bleeding hand clutched tightly in the other. His shoulders are raised and tense. He knows that his mother will immediately realize that he's stressed and wound tighter than he should be. He'd been having nightmares about the chopper crash. That it haunts him is nothing new. But he didn't expect to nearly have a panic attack because of a drunk uncle choosing to be cruel at a family reunion. 

His mother approaches him without hesitation. She gestures toward his hand and he holds it out to her. She says nothing as she looks it over, judging the severity of his wound, simply waiting for him to gather his words to speak. He isn't always able to. He knows she'll stand here with him quietly if he can't, or won't. There will be no judgment in her gaze when she eventually watches him leave without a word. 

“The chopper went down right in front of me,” he whispers. He stares at his hands, at the long white scar where he'd cut his left index finger to the bone as he clawed at the wreckage. He can feel the blood and soot and heat from that day on his skin and thinks that this is what phantom pains must feel like. He doesn't think that it will ever fade. After they kill Max, maybe, but killing people rarely makes him feel better. Momentary pride at keeping his team safe aside, he's never been happy to pull the trigger. 

“I tried to get them out… Mama, I tried, I swear. I still hear them begging me to save them. The _screaming_ –” 

He's horrified to realize he's crying, and swiping at the tears with his shaking hand does nothing to prevent more from coming. He hasn't cried in so long that he doesn't know how to make it stop. Fuck emotions. Fuck anything that hurts like this. Fuck everything that led him to the military, to Max, to Bolivia, fuck all of it. He just wants to feel something besides emptiness. He just wants some peace. 

“Aye, mijo,” his mother says sadly. He clings to her as she rubs his back, gentle and warm, and he knows it should be soothing, but all Cougar can think about is how the mothers of los angelitos will never be able to hold them again. 

They're silent for for a long time, until Cougar's breath comes evenly again, and he steps back. 

“I can't stay.” 

“I know. I love you, Carlito, don't forget that. Always will. Call me if you need me, okay? No matter what time it is, I'll listen. Even if you can't talk.” 

Cougar nods and turns to leave. As he stares out at the desert again, softened this time by the dusk, he wonders if she knows that she'll never see him again. This was the only way he could say farewell. Killing Max will end up killing the Losers, too. He wishes that they had more time. Him and his team. Him and his mother. But if they asked him to stay behind, he knows he would, so maybe – this is for the best. The Losers are leaving for Montserrat tomorrow. Even if he wanted to leave, it's too late.

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you who have read the Losers comics, you may recognize the name Montserrat. The island was one of the first steps on the journey to kill Max, which ended with several deaths, including Cougar's. While it's not explicitly said in the fic, that's how things go after this. Poor Cougar's mom.


End file.
